


Reverie of the Penumbra -ALPHA-

by SupaCutiePatootie (That_Familiar_Feeling), That_Familiar_Feeling



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Aos Sí Stiles, F/F, F/M, Other, Peter the Creepiest Uncle, Stiles is loosing it but that could be temporary, derek is loosing his powers still, that's about as far as it will stay within canon plot is that derek was taken...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Familiar_Feeling/pseuds/SupaCutiePatootie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Familiar_Feeling/pseuds/That_Familiar_Feeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS STORY IS AND WILL REMAIN UNFINISHED</p><p>Set post-Nogistune, Stiles Stilinski has come through with minor physical damage; only a very clear scar across his abdomen. Mentally though his mind has been fractured, much like how he suffered after sacrificing himself to the Nematon. And something had started to leak through.</p><p>With violent and physically draining reoccurring nightmares, immense states of hypersensitivity, and the ever looming wave of panic rising over him; he finds himself in the hands of Peter and Derek Hale.</p><p>With the past looming over everyone and forcing itself back to surface, Peter finds that abusing free will is his best bet of revenge for the many things he has deemed revenge worthy.<br/>But will his mind games back fire as Stiles slowly slips into a violent downward spiral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I go back lot to change things and add things and I'm happy that I have.  
> Looking up Celtic lore is so much fun and I don't see a lot of Stiles being Aos Si like. 
> 
> Also I imagine Peter as really damaged goods and Scot n' Derek are just trying to be good big bros to Liam and yeah...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full Moon
> 
> At a full moon, the earth, moon, and sun are in approximate alignment, but the moon is on the opposite side of the earth, so the entire sunlit part of the moon is facing us. The shadowed portion is entirely hidden from view.
> 
> The full moon is said it controls not only the tides, but also the minds of those left weary to it's power.

Stiles had categorized his nightmares; it was his own morbid way of coping with them. Recent months he may have created more intense levels of nightmare rating. But nothing quite compares to what he just suffered. It started off normal, he woke up with blinding sunlight filtered through the blinds. His dad was knocking on the door frame, "Stiles? Come on kiddo time to get up." his favourite mug had what remained of a particularly strong brew of coffee and the scent wafted into the room. Stiles groaned and stretched feeling the quiver of his muscles and a few joints settle.

He doesn't quite remember getting up and getting dressed, little bits and pieces of his bathroom routine. An average teenager waking up to early after going to sleep to late. When he got downstairs -his bookbag slung over his shoulder, a plate on the table with a good serving of eggs and turkey bacon was waiting for him.

He sat down and ate quickly almost needing to rush, he didn't need another teacher riding his case about tardiness. Before he left his dad gave a solid pat to his shoulder, "Stay safe ok kid?" he smiled. Stiles grinned, "Yeah yeah, you too alright? And no fast food were having casseroles tonight." his dad rolled his eyes before pushing Stiles out the door.

No one could blame him for not realizing it. Not noticing the blurriness at the corners of his vision, the way the day seemed oddly coloured. He felt normal, the ride to school felt normal. The only thing wrong was nagging feeling like he had left a paper or note, which was fine and normal.

What wasn't normal was the student vacancy in the parking lot. Or on the buses. Or in the halls. 

No one could blame him for the way his heart started to pick up pace. The little hitch of breath stuck in his throat, a side effect of a stuttering heart.

The lights weren't even on just the emergency ones flashing red...when did the school install those? The usually cheery building was silent and his footsteps echoed which reminded him of the night Peter had attacked them in the school. 

That's when it occurred to him that he hadn't followed through with his morning schedule. So slowly he glanced at the walls, he could read the words on flyers...but that didn't deter him from looking to his hands.

He was frozen to the spot. All ten digits shivering beneath a thick layer of dark copper. The floor beneath him bathed in red both flashing and staining. He looked up slowly, the staccato in his chest rising to his throat in a terrific cry of horror.

Bodies...lots and lots...of bodies. Some haphazardly laying on the floor, others reaching for door handles. Some of them were sitting up right against the walls. The wounds varied but each one had a violent set. Heads caved in and throats practically ripped out. Some of the faces were to mangled to recognize and others he knew too well. 

He walked through them suddenly aware he couldn't feel his own legs. He was screaming though, crying out and crying tears. Bodies littered the whole building.

"Scott?" he called out meekly, his throat tightened and all awareness this was a dream had settled behind him, forgotten. He tried again,"Lydia?...Malia..."

He turned a corner and stopped again, empty. No bodies no flashing. Just solid red light and open doors. When he walked by them they would slam shut and he would jump back, his legs felt paper thin. 

When the doors kept slamming and the hall got longer he started to run, run towards the doors that lead outside.

He lost time and space, and when he burst through the doors he was shocked so much that he fell to his knees. He rushed to catch his breath while the beginnings of a panic attack seeped into his mind. His chest tightened up and his hands shook. Only when he looked down at them did he notice the soft grass that tickled at his palms. 

_The field..._ he felt the words float around his head, not quite making sense. He was then filled with another sense of dread, looking down he could see a root burying itself into the soft dirt. He followed the root upwards to a far too familiar tree trunk, then up more; the sight that greeted him more terrifying then anything he had ever seen. Strung up in the branches of the large oak, his friends bodies swayed at the end of ropes. Their eyes were all open and some were still glowing. Scott's body was intact up to his neck which was tilted at a truly sickening angle. His eyes glowing like fresh embers. Unwavering eyes settled on him.

He doesn't remembering screaming, but the sound of it filled the air. Screams and Screams...mostly his own name; mostly they were his friend's screams. 

His dad was even there, in full uniform his neck snapped backwards. 

Stiles fell back and tried to push himself away but the roots had grabbed him, dragging him in closer to the tree and wrapped around his throat squeezing out his breath. He was hoisted up kicking and making strangled wrenching noises. He was only hoisted up enough that his feet didn't touch the ground.

He kicked and struggled his vision turning white and his lungs screamed. Certain he was going to die; he couldn't do anything but scrape at the root around his neck and frantically cry out for help.

_Stiles..._

He scrambled again wheezing. The tree swaying and the bodies turning towards him.

_Stiles stop writhing like a rat...stop acting weak._

He couldn't make out the owner of the voice among the rest of the white noise, but something in it was soothing, sliding through the noise with a rush of clarity. Of course Stiles wasn't weak...he would never be weak. 

_Let go...give me your hand instead._

And a hand extended towards him his blurry vision couldn't make out the figure only their two piercing blue eyes. Stiles grasped out and sure thick fingers curled around his wrist and pulled him free, sending him sprawling awake.

His heart was fluttering in his chest like he had just ran one of coaches famous suicide drills. He laid there regaining his breath before looking at his clock, it was four in the morning on a Thursday. And the moment he formed this conscious thought the details of the dream flickered away. He could only truly remember the horrific amount of bodies and blood, the Nematon with his hanging friends and family. And still through the haze he could see the blue eyes staring into his.

He had no intention of going back to sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles should never be allowed by himself in such a state of mind...
> 
> The sickness will be explained in later chapters so hold onto you seats~ And yes the titles have been decided i love them and their meaning.

When Stiles got to school he avoided looking at people. Mostly their faces because some of them he could still see mauled and frozen with... He slammed his locker quickly the stop that thought from getting worse. 

Scott -who was currently chatting idly about his long awaited date with Kira after school- jumped at the sound and frowned, "Dude what's wrong?" he tilted his head and gave one of his worried puppy looks.

Stiles sighed and shook his head, "Just tired s'all. Don't worry about me. So, anything other than your" he air quoted for the next bit, "going to be perfect and romantic but in a charming and totally sweet way, date tonight; that you wanted to discuss." he leaned against the lockers trying to ignore the perfume drifting towards them, something severely cherry related. Scott pulled his eyebrows together in thought then grinned and shook his head, with the big ole' crooked smile, "Nope". At which point the bell rang and saved Stiles from another onslaught of adjectives. The pair split up for the block and managed to get to their respective classes in decent time. This particular class was nothing special, save for the ridiculous amount of axe and chalk and Jesus who has a ring tone like that? Same was the next block, and lunch. But the moment he stepped into his third block class something burrowed beneath his skin, riddling him with cautionary goosebumps. 

He took his seat next to Scott and blinked, something felt off, skewed. Scott nudged him, "You ok?...kinda doing that whole look again." he looked genuinely worried.

Stiles blinked again and nods, "Yeah buddy no worries. Just you know..." he paused thinking...lost on which thought to chase; another round of bells and smells and sounds distracting him to much to form a coherent excuse.

"Tired?" Scott filled in for him; smiling almost apologetically. Stiles nods and flinches as Coach called them out on their "girl talk". The class went by slowly and the tapping noises of pencils filled it thoroughly, it made Stiles' stomach queasy and his throat tight but that weird threatened feeling subsided. Class was almost through that it started again, the odd feeling like a rabbit trapped in its hole. The noises seemed louder and the smells thicker after wards in a sense of adrenaline rush. His vision blurred for a moment, when he looked up it seemed to still of an image, like a poorly taken photograph. His skin buzzed and is throat tightened like a lump of honey was trapped. Sometime during this his heart started to pick up speed again. He could vaguely hear Scott trying to get his attention but his was frozen. Scott watched his frightened friend and his worry increased as he tried to whisper harshly and snap him out of it. Stiles’ eyes were still frozen on the wall.

The bell rang and its shrill note almost made him throw up like seriously he could taste the bile in his throat, he grabbed his bag and moved like he was still in a dream and frankly any thought of dreaming terrified him, which only made Scott worry more and follow him. He made a dash for the outside doors and pushed through them, gasping for breath. It wasn't an attack, it didn't feel like an attack. He was just hearing and seeing and smelling and  _feeling_ way too much. Scott watched like the good concerned best friend he was as Stiles collapsed against the wall.

When Stiles managed to calm his heart and catch his breath he tried to run through his frantic thoughts, one such being something called hypersensitivity and it made a  bit more sense what was happening and he calmed down more, he always felt better knowing reasons. Scott crouched next to him and used his most quiet voice, "Stiles...buddy?" 

Blinking away the burning in his eyes Stiles looks up and sighs, "Just...a moment of extreme... loss of control on the sensitivity buttons...I'm good." he took a deep breath and looked at Scott doing his best not to throw up. Maybe it was a side effect...maybe the dream was too...

Scott didn't seem to think that was any better of an answer then "just tired" so he didn't budge just kept looking at Stiles worriedly, like how his mother used to look at him when he had a fever. Stiles smiled bitterly, "Get to class Scotty, I'll be good in a few..." he pushed on his friend’s shoulder lightly unbalancing him. Scott still looked unsure but he stood anyways. After everything with demonic ninjas and crazy fox demons...Stiles had seemed off to him like a damaged object. For now Scott gave him some space probably fully intent on interrogating him after school. 

Stiles leaned back and took small breaths. He wasn't keen on the idea of going back to class or said interrogation, and the sound of the bell triggering another wave of nausea decided it for him that he wasn't going to deal with either. Instead he thought it best to go home and try to ease the ever growing panic that came with this weird hypersensitivity thing going on. He knew that driving home was no longer an option because how the hell they managed to keep such tight regulations on the parking lot astounded everyone, who wanted to work here after everything that had happened.

He opted out for walking to his house, it wasn't to far anyways. Hoisting his bag up he stumbled still a bit dizzy in the head. He used the low walls as balance and worked his way around the lacrosse field.  It wasn't to hard a decision to make, considering it seemed t be the only clear and visible coherent thought he could manage without throwing up. Which he only did once and he deeply regretted eating pizza that day.

 He had to take a minute to stop an sit down on the side of the road catching his breath. He hadn't felt this sick in a very long time, which included the famous "food poising at your own hand" he had suffered back in the seventh grade. He didn't know when he got lost in that thought but knew it was to long when he heard a snapping noise in the woods on the opposite side of the road. Then another coming towards the edge of he woods. Somehow his current state of mind took this as the warning it was and he was on his feet in seconds. 

Apparently that warning his brain had latched on to was the only thing it had latched onto, which explained how he ended up crashing over a branch with barely breath in him a good mile from the road. Since when did he have a “fight or why not run?” complex...

He couldn't really dwell on that since he was also in the process of violent throwing up, his body wracked with tremors and this adrenaline over drive making it hard to breath and think at the same time. The minutes dragged by and that drive quickly became his worst enemy as it triggered a panic attack. He clutched at his chest and bile covered shirt wheezing for air. His vision blackened at the edges and the sounds around him were deafening. He could just make out the sound of gnarly growl and branches snapping then something like an even louder snapping and it echoed off the trees, Stiles crawled away while the noises surrounded everything, he crawled and cried and threw up and everything was crashing in on him that he entirely went blank...

Some time after the loss of thoughts and feeling he found himself laying on the side or the road with his phone in his hands and he was going in and out of consciousness. The loud screech of rubber burned through lightly and he felt more than saw someone standing over him.

And again the same garbled voice... "Stiles...easy Stiles..." he could feel the electricity that came with hands bracing themselves on his shoulders and turning him around."Stiles let go...I've got you..."

That was the last thing he managed to catch before collapsing onto the darkness...

Something about the voice lulled him into tumultuous dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two awaiting your wonderful approvals~
> 
> If I get anything wrong or manage to for go my extremely careful grammar screening never be shy to tell me.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penumbra
> 
> Moon enters penumbra - The shadow cone of the earth has two parts: a dark, inner umbra, surrounded by a lighter penumbra. The penumbra is the pale outer portion of the Earth's shadow. Although the eclipse begins officially at this moment, this is in essence an academic event. You won't see anything unusual happening to the moon - at least not just yet.
> 
> The Earth's penumbral shadow is so faint that it remains invisible until the moon is deeply immersed in it. We must wait until the penumbra has reached roughly 70 percent across the moon's disk. For about the next 45 minutes the full moon will continue to appear to shine normally although with each passing minute it is progressing ever deeper into the Earth's outer shadow.

Stiles was drifting, in and out of limbo. 

He remembered someone in the woods hoisting him up and semi-carefully guiding him over the road and he can clearly recall the feeling of laying in the backseat of a rather cold car simply because he was currently laying in the backseat of a really cold car. It wasn't so bad really, the cold somewhat helped to stave off the rest of his attack and it cleared his senses. He could hear the driver talking and the words slurred coming into his ears,"No I don't know whats wrong him......" a pause a huff and a sudden wave of nausea, "Scott is the alpha now, he should be taking care of him..." bitterness that made him sicker, "Just meet there...I won't be held responsible for him..." and then the feeling like the world finally lost its grip on gravity was to strong for Stiles so he closed his eyes and tried to block out the  feeling with low whimpers.

Every few minutes he would doze off then come to. The ride was silent after that confusing conversation( confusing because Stiles didn't know who was talking or what it was about because coherent thoughts weren't happening) the windows were tinted, but he could see the downtown Beacon Hills building complexes. At the moment his mind was still to fuddled to understand that he was in some strangers car possibly being kidnapped. What it did understand was that the walls weren't closing in on him and that wow car rides are a great time to comatose.....

_His mammas voice came out like a song through a record...Her gently hands shushing him and petting his head calmly. She still smelt like medicine and vanilla cupcakes. "Stiles...sweet little bird... It’s alright. I'm here now..." she smiled and shushed his complaints. She gently set a wet rag over his eyes..._

When he came to again it was back. The fever that crept up his spine and made him tremor. Fighting to keep conscious and fighting to not throw up were seriously contradicting themselves. Not sure when they had stopped or when he was manhandled out of the car, he could only recognize the hazy orange light that usually came with apartment parking garages. Whoever was dragging him around at least seemed to care some as, oh hey second pair of hands were grabbing him and hoisting an arm around broad shoulders. They maneuvered him into an elevator. He groaned as the bright light pierced his eyes and sent him swaying. Soft fabric went over his head in an attempt to calm him. It didn't really connect that he knew the smell on the fabric. Not when he was being lead into a warm hallway. He didn't remember to much after that once he collapsed against the warmer body tending to him...

_Saturday morning was especially reserved for cartoons and leftover breakfast. While Papa Stilinski was at work his mamma would sit down with him and sip of her coffee, laughing at the coyote and the roadrunner right alongside him. Since he was sick she let him eat pizza, she always let him eat pizza when he was sick. It was a matter of fact that his dad would grab some curly fries before he came home also. Sometime between the odd changing of toons and continuous hum of the room Stiles figure out it was a dream. But no one could accuse him of being selfish when he let his consciousness slip back so he could cuddle up to the ghost of his mother. But he didn't get away with it for long..._

He didn't remember waking up from that wonderful lapse of reality, but he did and knew so because yet again he was violently throwing up. He was buzzing again, the outside noises muddling in and caging him again. At least the room was dark, and cold. Two bonuses in one go what luck...oh yeah there goes more of his lunch...His skin had a thin seen of cold sweat and his hair felt to damp against his forehead. Usually he could find humor in this situation but not even a clown would be smiling. He groaned lowly and lay back taking in the white ceiling. There was a fan spinning and looking at it made him feel worse. He turned his head and the movements made his groan again. It was a fever, that's what had been bothering him. But coupled with the hypersensitivity it felt like death slapping him a round again, yeah...again. He didn't have much time to contemplate that seeing that again he was blacking out.

_Stiles woke up in a cold room, sometime in the night. It was and wasn't his room...the same blue walls but different posters and furniture. He remembers how much he loves those toys that he had scattered on the floor. He just woke up from a bad dream and he didn't know where his favourite stuffed bear was so softly he slides off his bed and pads over to his door peaking around it. His nightlight didn't reach out into the hall, and the shadows scared him. "Mommy..." he put on a brave face and walked along the hall to his mother and father's room. He opened their door and shuddered, "Daddy...Mommy..." they were still sound asleep. He pouts and pads over crawling onto the bed and sliding in between them snuggling up to his mom.  It didn't matter they were still sleeping, he felt safe..._

Soft music drifted into his sensations. A low melody that scratched in a way only an old record could. The song was old and the voice probably dead, but it was comforting for some odd reason. Stiles was slow to open his eyes and take a census on his sense. He was warm...but that was because of the mound of feather comforter tucked around him. It was the same dark room but the windows now let in the soft mid morning light. So the last time he had awaken it was dark outside, which didn't actually help him decide how long he had been out. He rose up gently and winced at the bruises on his arm..hand prints actually. He could vaguely remember waking up once and thrashing about wildly frightened by some nightmare... he rubbed his arm and looked around spotting the prime candidate for the music.It was an old black phonograph that stood out stark to the relatively modern room.

Upon closer inspection though, once he managed to stumble over with one of the comforters draped around him, he discovered it wasn't black but charred, a badly burned but carefully restored functioning phonograph. He looked around and took careful mind notes of his surroundings. The room had dark wood floors and bark brown walls. The drapes and comforters were a gentle forestry green. The rugs were stark white on the floor and the decorations or such things were all modern bookcases and glass table with a rolling chair beneath. The bookcase had everything ranging from Faulkner to Dickens, and then to some seriously deep theoretical books on  _The Neurological Study Concerning Trauma Patients_. And does this all makes sense now because beside the bed table is a an old burnt photo of a younger Peter Hale and Stiles assumed was Natalia Hale. So he was currently in Peter's room, which was disturbing in itself but more so not knowing how long he had been there.  _  
_

The door had been left cracked and the walk down the multi doored hall was just long enough to make Stiles nervous on what he might find. But it was quiet and totally not strung up with bodies like Stiles had dramatized. The main room was connected to a kitchen by a small wall and bar, and the living room was just as modern as the bedroom. The floor was the same but the walls were lighter brown and tan golds. The couch was white like the rugs but it was more eggshell. Stiles took a seat and curled up wrapping himself in the comforter. He would wait for answers that would come, until then he thought up his questions. 

First, what happened to him. Second, how long was he out, and third important one, who had helped him into the apartments because that was a two person manhandling.  He also wondered if his Dad of Scott knew that he was gone. He didn't have to wait to long for someone to show up, and the sharp click of the door unlocking caught his attention quick. He heard a soft sigh and papers hit a side table before the pause. 

"So, your finally awake." Peter for once didn't sound like the world owed his it attention, instead he sounded like a tired man who just wanted coffee. Stiles shrugged, "Awake...maybe not alive..." he peeked over the couch, "I assume that since I'm seeing Satan himself then..."

Peter huffed,"Ha ha very funny, not your best though."  Peter made his way into his kitchen an started to set up some coffee. Stiles shrugged again and sank back into the warmth he had encompassed himself into. Peter came back a while later and set two cups down, one for himself and one in front of Stiles on a decorative coaster. Stiles eyed it for a minute and Peter sneered,"I didn't poison it. Just to assure you."

Stiles shook his head and reached out gently,"I don't drink coffee a lot...not very good for my ADD." he sipped at the vanilla flavoured beverage gingerly. Peter nods and sits back in the tense but acceptable silence. Stiles eyed him before stating his first question, "Curious to know if you might have figured out why I was passing out in the middle of the woods.  Also, where you following me?"

Peter quirked an eyebrow,"Deaton is still checking the books to see if you may have been poisoned...and you called me remember." he stated it matter of fact.

Stiles paused,"I called you? I don't remember that... I mean yeah I don't really remember a lot but still, mind catching me up?" he sat up straighter. Peter nods, "I was at home and you called me, rambling on about being attacked and that your legs wouldn't work...some other terrifying things about seeing people hanging from trees." he blinked quizzically at Stiles.

Stiles froze up and his throat tightened he could feel his skin go cold. Peter sat up quickly,"Stiles?"

Stiles shook his head,"It wasn't you chasing me through the woods...across the road..." Peter shook his head and Stiles leaned back his nervous fidget kicking in.

Peter nods slowly,"You were followed then..by something.." he pause thinking,"About three days ago actually. You kept going in and out with a fever and chills." Peter looked at his arms curiously,"Woke up screaming a few times..." Stiles rubbed at his sore arm. Peter shook his head,"Well now that you can move without throwing up food you haven't eaten, your father has been interrogated Derek and Scott as to your whereabouts." Stiles eyes shpt up,"My dad didn't know? Crap...yeah I have t get home.." he groaned and slumped,"I think I left my jeep.." Peter interrupted him, "Scott took care of it. He came in here demanding my head on a stick for bringing you to him first...had to us the whole 'he is dying at this moment' technique to calm him."

Stiles flinched lightly, he felt awful for putting Scott through that again. Peter stood up and walked towards the hall,"Your clothes were covered in dirt and other sorts of things, and I have enough to just let you keep those." with that he slipped into one of the rooms. Stiles had only shortly wondered why he was wearing a pair of dark grey sweats and a thin short sleeved plain t-shirt. "I'm astonished you have normal shirts to be honest." he could hear Peter scoff and barely missed the bag of clothes fly at his head. "Your dad made it clear he'd shoot me and Derek if you didn't get back to his house the second you manage to start feeling well enough to. And I'm pretty sure Chris gave him bullets before he left" 

Sties laughed lightly and pulled out the battered red hoody, it had been freshly cleaned and maybe even still felt warm. He barely hesitated before pulling it over his head and pulling on his sneakers. Mentally taking note that Derek was the second semi-kidnapper semi-rescuer.

 

The ride was shorter now that he was in the moment and not lagging with three second delay. And after a quick for food that Stiles was absolutely willing to kill for, they pulled up to the Stilinski house hold. Scott's new bike was sitting out front and it briefly filled Stiles with the worst kind of feelings. When Ethan had left he had passed Aiden's bike over to Scott, said that someone needed to look after it.  Peter sensing the tension clear his throat and leaned back"Better hurry and make something up, he's been here the whole time."

Stiles nodded and slid out of the car,"Thanks I guess..for keeping me alive..." he quickly forced the words out and Peer waved a hand,"Done it before, probably be forced to do it again."  Stiles huffed and closed the door before turning for the house. The car puled out shortly after and left him alone to face the brutal loving thing he called family.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penumbral Shadow
> 
> Penumbral shadow begins to appear : Now the moon has progressed far enough into the penumbra so that it should be evident on its disk. Start looking for a very subtle light shading to appear on the moon's upper left portion.   
> This will become increasingly more and more evident as the minutes pass; the shading will appear to spread and deepen. Just before the moon begins to enter the Earth's dark umbral shadow the penumbra should appear as an obvious smudge or tarnish on the moon's left portion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this took longer than expected, I didn't like the idea that I had come up with.
> 
> But now I have both connection, and cause so i'm happy and this shouldn't take long.
> 
> Also, its short and you'll understand why once you read the end notes.

Stiles had braced himself before he even got to the porch; for good reason to. 

Scott came bursting out of the door first followed on his heels by The Sheriff. Stiles couldn't get a word out before he was crushed between the two, and he remained silent as they ushered him through the door asking too many questions. He sat on the couch and sighed running a hand over is face and thankfully they took it as a signal to sit and listen. He sat up and leaned back, "One...no clue what happened..." Scott opened his mouth but Stiles raised a finger,"Second, what did I miss..." he sighed, "And what happened in the woods?"

Scott looked at him confused for a moment,"Derek said that Deaton was working on it...and you didn't miss much just a Friday....and what happened in the woods?" The Sheriff nodded slightly and sat forward listening intently. Stiles blinked and sighed,"I don't even know what happened and I was there so." he stood up and shook his head,"Just tell Deaton I'm feeling better right now...I need to sleep some more. Afterwards yeah i'll try and help figure things out.."  Scott just nodded and stood hugging him tightly before hurrying out the door. 

The Sheriff stayed where he was for a moment watching his son. He stood up and wrapped his arms around him loosely,"I'm just glad your home son..." he mumbled with the smell of whiskey on its brink. Stiles nodded and slipped away and up the stairs slowly. His room was cold and looked to still compared to what he recently woke up in.

He sat on the bed first, looking around slowly before he laid down and curled up facing the wall. It didn't take long for his exhausted body to succumb to the next wave of dreams.

_The halls are the same white halls with the same awful blue green stripes. The same awful blue emergency lights._

_But its different, the sterile smell is gone and replaced with nothing, the sounds are gone just the same. No one walked through doors or stood at  front desks. It was empty and felt dead. Stiles walked up and down countless halls looking into empty rooms that were even darker. All the way up until the last floor. The lights were flickering the the doors were all shut but the windows wide open. He didn't need the signs on the door to tell him who was in what bed._

_First it was his father, then Scott, Lydia, everyone even Allison... All the way up to his mothers...empty room. He looked through the glass at all the flat lined equipment. He couldn't fathom why she wasn't there...so he turned away and froze up._

_At the end of the hall was the back of a woman, a woman with long dark brown hair and a lithe frame. Her shoulders were squared and she never turned around. Stiles walked forward and so did she. Step for step they moved forward and when she turned down the hall he ran after. When he rounded the corner she was just walking into a room, she he chased after her his voice caught in his own throat. When he crashed the door he found himself in an entirely new place._

_A pure white room with a single mirror at the far end...he walked towards it cautiously watching his movements come through roughly and jerky. He stood in the mirror and took in he sight. Lily white skin dusted light freckles and the moles that seemed to line his jaw. The same...big...brown..._

_Those aren't his eyes...that isn't his skin...that dark brown hair isn't his..._

_She's looking at him, through him actually. Her eyes are so lively and its almost like for the moment he could reach out..._

_But he doesn't get the chance when she backs away, shaking her head and smiling,she was saying something. He shakes his head and reached out for her..._

_The cool of the mirror turns rough under his hand. The cool metallic shine replaced with dark bark. His eyes move upward and take in the large winding branches of a a young oak tree. It's not the oak tree that frightens him, actually its calming having his hand on its ancient skin. He could just hear the power that it's roots carried. He could feel there sureness, their steadfast hold and it gave him strength. The sound of a garden, a stream, wind, it all came to him like a fresh breath of air..._

_And then the air thickened and the ground sank, the whole world started to dip and he was falling...falling through water._

_He was sinking and couldn't move, all he could do was scream out and watch the bubbles float away...and then he was just floating. No breath, no burning of lungs like in the pool. He was floating amid the dark blue water watching the surface above him shimmer and the rays of light that danced around him. He was slipping further and further and then the blackness that started to fill in the gaps. Black water...black bubbles..blackness...._

And then it was blue. Blurry and muddled by both sleep and the street lamp outside, he was staring at his wall again. He blinked a few times and sat up groggy and unsettled deeply. It wasn't a nightmare...but it wasn't some sweet dream either. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed at his face before standing and making his way into his bathroom. He washed his face and watched the water drain away.

He could have gone his entire life, maybe, without the next part. When he looked up at the mirror his face wasn't even his own.

Staring back at him was a woman with ivory skin, beauty marks that almost mimicked his own, long brown hair framing her shoulders, and a pair of dark cold brown eyes staring back at him. Stiles threw himself from the mirror in a panic, she watched him her mouth continually working in a single phrase, _"promises to keep, miles before we sleep, promises to keep miles before we sleep..."_  Stiles covered ears the voice getting louder until it was screaming at him every word echoing in his skull. He lashed out and the sound of glass shattering broke the cacophony of that single voice. 

Stiles stood there with his fist caught in the middle of the broken mirror, his dead mothers face shattered into fractals, echoing around his fist and reverberating up his arm, _"Promises to Keep.."_ Stiles tore his arm away and fell back against the cracked door onto his back.

He caught his breath before stumbling to his feet, his hand bleeding and his knuckles throbbing painfully. when he looked at the mirror carefully, all his saw was a shattered reflection of himself. He stumbled away and searched wildly for his phone catching himself on the nightstand and cursing before gingerly struggling to work with his wound and his phone. This is one of the things on the list of of 'call someone anyone it literally doesn't matter, this is an emergency'.

But, who would be awake right now and willing to listen to his panicky rambles... Scott was dealing with his own shit and Lydia had some major freaking out she was doing...Him and Malia were arguing because god knows he couldn't tell her the truth... why he couldn't let her stay over because he was to afraid she'd have to wake him from another nightmare...

He could feel the edges of a panic attack coming over him and he decided to just call his speed dial.

So he goes to speed dial and fidgets with his shirt and wound while the tone rings on. "Stiles?" the familiarly deep voice comes through after a few rings, Derek...perfect...

"Hey yeah uh...just wondering if maybe you could swing by and I don't know help me..." Stiles mumbled his throat tightening and the pain working its way up his arm. He could hear the gears turning over the line, "Stiles whats wrong? what happened?" he could hear Derek shuffling around. Stiles hissed suddenly when his fidgeting disturbed a piece of glass embedded in his hand,"Jesus fuck..sorry sorry..just.." Stiles rushed to catch his breath holding the phone away while he took deep breaths. He held the phone to his ear again,"Derek please.."

It was silent for a beat then, "I'll be there in a minute..." Stiles sighed and nodded then corrected himself,"Sure thanks great...please just..hurry." when the line went dead he kept the phone held up. His nerves had goosebumps running along his spine. He shook his head and tossed the phone onto his bed while looking out the window. Its around 9 pm on a Sunday and the street either has bright houses with church families converging together or pitch black homes with the curtains drawn tight. He pulled his own curtains to block out the light and moved around his room to his door. Its Sunday night, and his Dad works Sunday nights, leaving Stiles alone to deal with himself until the time it would take Derek to get to his house.

Stiles cursed to himself again and started shuffling around his room digging through his closet for a first aid kit, his hand dripping and staining the carpet with little spots along the way. He have moved them after the last incident...

He stumbled towards the stairs and downstairs, every shadow making him jump and every creak making his eyes snap to attention...

Whoever decided leaving Stiles Stilinksi alone was a fool. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, couple things.  
> 1) Before, during, and after posting this chapter I was injure (tore my ACL) drugged up with pain meds (and how boy do those things give you writers block) and I just had surgery enough said there)
> 
> 2)Ideas and research do take time, I want this to be correct as can be. WorkyFlowy is my friend.
> 
> 3)Been watching and studying the final episode
> 
> 4)I have finally figured it all out, please stay tuned


	5. Chapter Five

Derek walked towards the Stilinksi residence door with trepidation. He had heard the fear and panic in Stiles voice the moment he had answered the phone.

The lights were off and he couldn't see past the curtains in Stiles' bedroom window, he didn't want to further panic the boy so instead of climbing up per his usual ways...he used the key in the withered potted plant beside the door.

The house was just as ominous inside as it was outside. No light was on save the single flickering beam in the kitchen that stood overhead the sink and counter.

Even without to much visual, he could tell something was wrong. He could smell the blood and through the darkness a single panicked heartbeat kept drawing him away from the door and through the kitchen. 

The cabinets looked wrecked, like a drunk man had been stumbling around and shifting through them. Items had been scattered along counter tops and every few places blood was smeared either on the counter top of the cabinet doors. It was obvious that it was Stiles' blood, but where was Stiles...

He followed the trail of droplets to the stairs, ascending them slowly and carefully listening to the heart beat. 


	6. A short decisive note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theres a TLDR; in the end note. 
> 
> thank you guys again!

First and foremost, allow me to offer a greeting.

I am only a humble author, who tries very hard to create these universes and these complexities that have already been found before. My secret is that I try to find them from every angle and every new angle.  
And so far, I've found quite a few.

But you see that's just the problem here. Complexities and theories and all of these swirling thoughts, they change over time. 

imagine it like this:

You spend your whole life living in black,white,and grey. all of the tones there of. Now, you can make a pretty picture out of these hues. But imagine one day, you see Red. Against all the rest, Red is fascinating. And it sticks with you.  
This story, was my Red. I loved it, I spent hours developing it and crafting ideas. My first real story. This is in fact my longest word count.   
When I started to post it, it was amazing. The feed back was fantastic and I felt really good about it.

But then, I saw Blue.

Blue, was completely different. Like- it was miraculous and perfect and very not Red.  
So now, now I see Red, but Red isn't Blue. And Blue isn't Green, or Yellow and Orange.

The point! is that I don't just love Red anymore. I can't just love Red when there are so many other colors to love.

I don't love this story anymore. Not the way it was going. And it feels wrong to try and salvage it with what I've got.  
I also don't remember what was supposed to happen. During the writing process I suffered from a small but life changing accident (hello knee surgery i hate you very much) that I've mentioned in my notes before. Due to these and recovery, I lost the steam on this ride.

I don't want to write this story like it is anymore. I love it to pieces, and I can't fathom just deleting it. But honestly it's just not right...

But fear not!  
I do have a plan, and a potential story is hidden in here. Not really hidden but you know.  
I'm going to rewrite this, with a clear head, and a new thought in mind.

Let's be honest, I don't like the show very much anymore. But I do adore Stiles and really felt he deserved his own unique story.   
This won't be a sterek based story anymore, I don't actually like the pairing anymore. heh, it got me into the fandom/show a long time ago...but time to let that one go. I happen to like steter more, and I'm very professionally salty about how they made peter's character (seriously the dude could have been one helluva awesome villain or redemption arc)

I'm thinking, that i'm going to just write a story. no "au based" "non canon conforming" and no more "rewrite of season blah blah blah!"  
The next chapter begins, where I shall close this one. (ok i know harry potter did this but i dont remember exactly how)

The next story, will be more informed and delving deeper into plot that hasn't been looked at before. A new angle, a new story. With pieces from all the rest forming a new picture.

So this, is for you guys who stuck around or are new. i'm sorry to disappoint. i will post what i had drafted for the next chapter, i won't be finishing it.

Thank you, to everyone who liked this story and read it. It meant the world to me. It helped me to craft my art and writing process. It helped me develop my writing and has helped to teach me a lot about developing plot and researching story devices. And you guys helped me see that it's worth it. That i can make something people enjoy- but also something I enjoy.

So Thank You, and know this isn't a Goodbye...more like...a detour. Practice even.  
I hope to see you guys again when i start the next series of posts. please feel free to check out some of my more cent stuff and feedback is always -always- appreciated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLDR;  
> I don't like this story, but I feel it has such a potential. So i'm going to post what i got and then change the name. Time for something new!  
> thank you for all your support!~


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